


With You In My Head

by Bouncey



Series: To Carry Your Marks [4]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Captive Jaskier | Dandelion, Consensual Kidnapping, Curiosity Killed the Vesemir (but not really), Eskel and Lambert are Very Dumb Boys, Established Relationship, Feral Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Kaer Morhen, Kidnapping, Light Bondage, M/M, Overprotective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Scenting, Soul Bond Testing Experiements Gone Awry, Soulmates, Soulmates AU, Winter At Kaer Morhen, Witcher Senses, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:28:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25187167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bouncey/pseuds/Bouncey
Summary: Jaskier had been stretched out on the bed, dozing in and out of sleep after a long morning of cleaning and reorganizing the kitchen pantry all alone. Just as his eyes closed to fall asleep, the bard found himself being rolled roughly onto his stomach and pressed into the mattress by a pair of strong hands. “Ger-hmph!”It certainly wasn’t his darling Geralt. His Flower would never have gagged or blindfolded him without express permission first. He most definitely wouldn’t have tied Jaskier’s hands behind his back and bundled him into a large burlap sack. He’d absolutely never throw the bard over his shoulder like a bag of old vegetables and take off at a quick sprint into the cold of the wilderness outside Kaer Morhen.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: To Carry Your Marks [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1807651
Comments: 37
Kudos: 827





	With You In My Head

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KiwiBaer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiwiBaer/gifts).



> With You In My Head - UNKLE (feat. The Black Angels)
> 
> Anyone want some feral, protective Geralt? Some major fluff? Some dumb thot Witcher bois?
> 
> Well I'm only here to serve.

“You see, Jaskier, I’ve never had the chance to run these kinds of experiments before. No one has. You’re the first soulmate to a Witcher who’s ever stuck around so long,” Vesemir explained.

“That’s...that’s really sad,” the bard frowned. He kicked his legs absently from his seat atop Vesemir’s desk and furrowed his eyebrows. “And you want to take advantage of this magical bond between me and Geralt to _test his mutations?_ ”

“Maybe his connection to you has been changed in some way. Perhaps it has been heightened, like his sight or his reflexes. Maybe it has been suppressed or changed, like his pigmentation. I would love to know if his soul’s connection to yours is stronger, weaker, or the same as an average human’s. It would be useful to record for future generations as well; we’d know what to expect in case this ever happens to another Witcher. Or in case you actually _do_ get captured in the future and I need to know the way Geralt will react so I can be prepared to help him.”

“You’re going to tell him about the plan though, right?”

“Well,” Vesemir rubbed his hand against the back of his neck. “No? That kind of defeats the purpose entirely.”

“So you’re just going to what, abduct me from the keep, hide me somewhere deep in the woods, and see how long it takes Geralt to find me?”

“Essentially, yes. You’ll be totally safe, of course. I’ll keep one of the boys with you at all times and I won’t let you freeze or starve.”

“How kind,” Jaskier deadpanned. “But I’m not sure I like this idea very much, if I'm being honest.”

“Jaskier…”

“I love Geralt, Vesemir,” he snapped. The old man remained wisely silent under the young human's pointed glare. “I know this is a rare opportunity for you, but I do _not_ want to see him hurting. Or scared. Or in pain. I _hate_ those feelings, personally. Every time he leaves to fight a monster or other large beastie I _die_ _inside_ not knowing if he’ll return to me at night. I patch up every wound and pray to every god that will listen to keep him safe for me. I’m not about to willfully inflict that kind of anxiety or panic onto my Witcher.”

" _Your_ Witcher, huh?” the older man asked, smirking now. Jaskier’s little rant had given him time to think of another angle, “You don’t want to see _your_ White Wolf come tearing into the doorway, violently protective and with eyes only for you? You don’t want to know what would happen in the aftermath of your rescue? The cuddling, the petting, the _spoiling_ you’d get? Can you even _imagine_ how protective he’ll be for the week that follows? Maybe even two weeks? You may only be carried from place to place for the rest of winter.”

 _No, Jaskier,_ the bard told himself, legs stilling against the edge of the desk as he resisted the urge to give in, _you’d never put Geralt through that kind of experience for personal gain. Even if it_ would _be incredibly rare and pertinent information to pass on to other Witchers. Even if it might lead to your safe rescue in five years. Even if the aftermath may be_ fucking heavenly. _We’re not going to do that to Geralt, ever._

Vesemir watched the bard’s resolve crumble with each passing second and finally added, “If you let me do this _one_ test, I’ll make the boys run naked around the keep _twice_.” 

“Okay,” he heard himself agreeing. Jaskier immediately clapped a hand over his traitorous mouth, but it was too late. The deal had been made.

“Thank you, Jaskier,” Vesemir smiled, escorting the bard off his desk and out of his study. “I’m sure we’ll see you at dinner.”

The anxious bard _did_ see them all at dinner. Nothing seemed to be any different, actually. Lambert made a handful of stupidly personal jokes about his and Geralt's sex life, Eskel buried his head in a book about Velanese healing herbs and tried to ignore Lambert, and Vesemir chatted with Geralt about some final roof repairs that needed to be made before the snow stuck. 

Jaskier kept quiet about his strange meeting with the leader of the Wolf School, picking apart his venison stew like a small child may have done. Geralt picked up on his Beloved's nerves, but fell for Jaskier’s white lie that it was merely some mild fear regarding an incoming blizzard. He’d never been somewhere so _enclosed_ during the snowy season before. It was easy enough to get Geralt to believe, given the bard’s flamboyant personality and love of the great outdoors. The white-haired Witcher held him tightly as they fell asleep that night and Jaskier felt more than a little guilty about lying to his Flower. _It's for the best,_ he argued with himself. _The experiment_ _won't work if you tell him ahead of time._

Two weeks passed without incident and Jaskier eventually forgot about his begrudging agreement with Vesemir entirely.

The snow stuck sometime in the middle of the first week, covering the grounds of the keep with a layer of cold white powder and blanketing the roof with fluffy drifts. It was beautiful.

Jaskier spent two straight afternoons plastered to the library's largest window, jotting down lyrics for carols and ballads regarding Kaer Morhen in wintertime. Lambert had to carry him to the dining room on one occasion because he was so engrossed with the rhyme he’d worked out.

Geralt found it adorable, of course. He loved the way Jaskier’s tongue peeked from the corner of his mouth when he got focused on perfecting a line of song. He loved the random tunes his bard plucked from that hard-won lute as they lay before the fire in the Great Hall. He simply adored the look of admiration that sparkled in Jaskier’s eyes as his bard sat in the doorway of the stables, wrapped up in _Geralt's cloak,_ to watch the Witchers train. Everything Jaskier did was enchanting and fascinating in the light of their new love. The Witcher found himself alight with it, daily. He'd never thought that happiness could stay so strong or so constant and yet, here he was...basking in the joy that his Beloved practically _radiated._

Which made it even more terrifying when Vesemir and the other Wolves finally struck.

Jaskier had been stretched out on the bed, dozing in and out of sleep after a long morning of cleaning and reorganizing the kitchen pantry all alone. Just as his eyes closed to fall asleep, the bard found himself being rolled roughly onto his stomach and pressed into the mattress by a pair of strong hands. “Ger-hmph!” 

It certainly _wasn’t_ his darling Geralt. His Flower would never have gagged _or_ blindfolded him without express permission first. He most definitely wouldn’t have tied Jaskier’s hands behind his back and bundled him into a large burlap sack. He’d absolutely never throw the bard over his shoulder like a bag of old vegetables and take off at a quick sprint into the cold of the wilderness outside Kaer Morhen. _Vesemir,_ Jaskier realized, already a few miles away from the safety of the keep by the time he figured it out and stopped thrashing against the walls of his fabric prison. _He’s testing Geralt._

“Jas? Jaskier?” Geralt called, rapping his knuckles gently against their bedroom door. “Are you awake, Beloved?”

No answer.

That was slightly concerning. At the very least Jaskier would usually make an irritated sound in the door’s general direction or whine to summon snuggles faster. Geralt pushed the door open and peeked inside. The room was empty and something was _wrong_. His Beloved’s new book was laying half-open on the wrong part of the bed and their usually organized furs were disheveled. One had fallen onto the floor and two or three of Jaskier’s favorites were missing entirely. 

The Witcher dropped into a defensive stance on instinct, breathing deeply through his nose to see if he could identify whoever had invaded his space. Whoever had bothered his darling bard.

_Nothing._

They must have masked their scent with magic or strong potions; the lack of a reaction from his medallion suggested the latter option as the most viable.

Without being able to determine the identity of the kidnapper or the immediate location of his Beloved, the Witcher teetered over the edge of rationality and into full-blown panic. The only thing Geralt could smell clearly was the bright tang of fear in the air over Jaskier’s side of the bed and that was _Not Good._

Something growled deep within him as dread overrode logic. A voice so primal and feral that it shocked Geralt to stillness. A voice which left no room for argument, taking over what little bit of the Witcher's clear mind was left: _Find Jaskier. Save Jaskier. Protect Jaskier. He is mine_ . _Not theirs. Mine._ His lip curled back over his teeth, sharp canines flashing as he snarled angrily into the empty room. _He's m_ _ine._

Geralt threw his cloak around his shoulders and grabbed one sword in each hand, fastening the dual scabbard around his torso as he raced through the stone hallways and down two flights of stairs.

No taking chances. Not with Jaskier's safety on the line. 

As soon as the wild-eyed Witcher caught the scent of Jaskier’s citrus-bright fear on the wind, he took off into the light of the late afternoon sun. A single set of prints led away from the keep and he followed them, scanning the path ahead as he went. The snap of every twig and fall of every snowflake registered like canons firing in his hyperfocused mind, a constant stream of information that drove him towards his Beloved. _Deer to the left, not a threat. Breaking branches up ahead; could be dangerous. Focus, Geralt. Where does Jaskier’s scent lead you?_

There was a dark flash of human clothing in the distance. _Eskel?_ The figure had the same dimensions as his adoptive brother, but why would Eskel have Jaskier? The Witcher's confusion over who had kidnapped Jaskier proved to be a worthy distraction; Geralt suddenly found himself dangling just over a dozen feet above the ground, limbs tangled in a reinforced net. He howled with rage, loud enough for every animal in the vicinity to hear, and set to work snapping the ropes that held him with his bare hands. Whatever humanity Geralt had left in his panic was gone, ripped from him by the thought of losing his Beloved. His mind became an endless loop of _F_ _ind, save, protect._

_Find, save, protect._

_Find, save, protect._

_Find, save, protect._

Until the net gave way and he dropped back to the ground in a hunter's crouch.

The glare Jaskier sent Lambert from his seat on the floor was full of accusations and poison but the Witcher merely rolled his eyes, bemused, “You’re the one who agreed to let Vesemir run these trials, remember?”

The bard shook his head, whining when his bangs fell into his eyes. Lambert crouched and moved them out of the way again. 

“Yes, you did. Don’t be mad at us because you wanted to get some heavy petting out of this rescue mission situation,” he teased. “Anyway, I’m sure Vesemir will take full responsibility for your assumed kidnapping once Geralt gets here.”

Jaskier had questions and a few choice insults waiting at the tip of his tongue, but Lambert had been instructed not to remove the bard’s gag for any reason (the _main_ reason being that he’d probably scream for help and give his position away too quickly). Only Geralt was allowed to remove it after successfully incapacitating his brothers or escaping with Jaskier, those were the rules Vesemir had established. Lambert stood up again and made his way over to the slowly collapsing door frame of the abandoned hunting cabin. He narrowed his eyes to peer outside and crossed his arms over his chest for warmth. “I hope he gets here before you freeze, bard.”

Lambert nearly jumped a foot in the air when the two men heard a booming, feral howl rip its way through the trees a second later. The tiny building practically shook against its foundation and Jaskier raised a confident eyebrow as if to say _look what you made him do._

“Fuck,” Eskel gasped, ducking inside the back door and closing it quietly behind him a moment later. Jaskier whipped his head around to look at his second captor. “Geralt ripped his way out of a selkie net with his _bare hands,_ Lambert. He didn’t even pause to _think_ about using Igni or Aard! He’s turned into a fucking monster.”

Lambert drew his sword and took cover in a shadowy corner, no longer in a joking mood. Eskel crossed the cabin’s dirty floor and ducked behind a pile of old crates with his hand on the hilt of his weapon. Jaskier stayed put, unable to stand or walk since both his wrists and ankles had been securely bound. _They had too much fun with this whole captive bard scenario,_ he decided. _And now it's biting them in the ass._

"If I die because Vesemir wanted to test out the power of Geralt's mutant soulmate-bonded reptile brain, I'm going to come back and haunt his ass forever," Lambert whispered. 

"I'll be right next to you," Eskel agreed. 

Sooner than anyone could have predicted, Geralt crashed into the previously abandoned cabin, eyes wide and nostrils flaring. His teeth were bared like a territorial bear's and his stance was inherently threatening. To Eskel and Lambert he probably looked like a nightmare come to life but to Jaskier it was the sweetest sight in the world. He wriggled against the thick fur they'd sat him down on in an effort to draw Geralt's attention. “Fmph!”

“ _Beloved,_ " came the half-gasp, half-growl. The word tore its way from somewhere deep in the Witcher's chest when their gazes locked and hung in the air between them. There was a split second of peace on Geralt's face before Lambert and Eskel leapt from their hiding places. Eskel aimed his blade for Geralt’s midsection and Lambert went for his right shoulder. He met both swords with one of his own. The next word he said was dark and threatening, as if he’d identified an enemy beast rather than his kin. _“Brothers.”_

“It was Vesemir’s idea!” Lambert insisted, parrying a particularly harsh blow from Geralt’s steel sword. Eskel was desperately trying to keep the silver one at bay, his eyes bright with fear now. _They hadn’t expected him to be so intense. They thought he’d calm down a little when he realized it was them._ Now Jaskier was beginning to worry for everyone's well being.

“Geralt, he’s perfectly safe!” Eskel shouted with his back flat against the rickety cabin wall. The white-haired Witcher was bearing down on the other two Wolves with animalistic intensity. Every blow utilized the force of his full bodyweight and strength.

“ _Mine!_ _Must_ protect!"

Jaskier keened then, high and scared. The sound of his Beloved in distress overrode whatever rage was making Geralt slam his brothers repeatedly against the wall and he turned away from them, eyes now zeroed in on the bard. Jaskier whined again and tried to get his feet under him, which only made matters worse when he overextended, pitched sideways, and slammed face-first against the dusty stone floor. "Umph."

"Beloved!" Geralt cried, horror-struck at the sight of his bard in pain. The Witcher dropped his weapons and rushed to Jaskier's aid, lifting him gently up and pulling the gag from his mouth. "Jaskier?"

"I'm alright, love. I'm fine, really. You need to calm down, okay?" the bard gasped out, as soon as he was able. "Breathe for me, Flower."

"Hmm." The Witcher set Jaskier back down on the fur once his safety had been established and turned back to his brothers. His face was calm but his voice was scratchy and rough with emotion, "Why?"

"It was my idea," Vesemir asserted, coming through the door with his hands raised in apology "I'm sorry, Geralt, but we've never had the opportunity to test a Witcher's bond before. I thought it would be useful information to have, in case Jaskier goes missing in the future or another Witcher needs our help."

"Hmm." Geralt picked up his swords from the floor and slid them into the dual scabbard on his back. He shot a dark glare around the room before he gathered the bound Jaskier into his arms and swept from the cabin. He called back over his shoulder, "I understand why you did it but don't talk to me or my bard for at least three days."

Varying affirmations were yelled after him, but Geralt wasn't paying attention. He had Jaskier back and that was all that mattered.

The primal, screaming voice in him finally went silent as he traced his nose down his Beloved's jaw and breathed deeply. The fearful tang had disappeared, replaced by the soft floral scent of his bard's contentment. "Thought you were in real trouble," he grumbled. "Did you agree to this?"

"Yes, but that was over two weeks ago and I had completely forgotten."

"Why?"

"Vesemir told me the same thing he told you about the soul bond stuff. I thought it would be nice to help him out since he was allowing me to stay here all winter."

"And?"

"What do you mean ' _And'_ Geralt?"

"And what else did he say to get you to agree? I know you wouldn't have let him talk you into this so easily. You hate it when I'm anxious and you smelled _terrified_."

Jaskier blushed, avoiding his Flower's intense gaze, "He may have also promised me something regarding some handsome men running around the keep in the nude."

" _Beloved."_

"I am but a weak-willed mortal, Geralt! I cannot help myself when three sexy Witchers are involved!"

"Three?"

"He did say _all,_ darling."

"Hmm. I'm glad I haven't untied you yet."

"Geralt, wait! What are you planning to do? How far are we from Kaer Morhen? Am I in trouble? Geralt? Answer me, dammit! Geralt! Lambert, Eskel, help! Vesemir you old bastard! Geralt!?"

**Author's Note:**

> Do you guys even want me to keep writing for this series? Lemme know.


End file.
